Disquieting Days
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: (VQL # 5) Beginning 1017 years post-Manga, Knives detects that Vash is badly injured and in danger of death. He leaves his hidden retreat to investigate, and begins to find answers three years later. (Spoilers included, sorry.)
1. Rude Awakening

_I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_This tale begins 1017 years post-manga (different final battle and results than in the anime). I couldn't seem to entirely avoid spoilers. Again. Sorry. :(_

**Rude Awakening**

Knives awoke, sitting bolt upright from a sound sleep. He felt a sensation of deep, burning pains in his stomach and chest. Almost immediately, another phantom pain struck his temple and caused a minor headache.

Glancing down, he could see that his own flawless body was undamaged. He knew perfectly well that only one other soul in the universe could possibly be responsible for him feeling any pain that wasn't his own. He threw aside his blankets, and swung his feet onto the floor. He ran his fingers through his short black hair, and grimaced.

The orb sisters all over the planet cried out, their voices echoing in his mind: "Red brother!"

Knives knew who that was. They all loved him, even the sister here. He still wondered how that misguided pacifist had achieved such a profound effect on their lesser sisters. He shrugged. For the moment, that didn't matter.

Abruptly there were echoes from two different emotional spikes. One was full of grief, and near-despair. He recognized the flavor of those emotions well enough.

The other emotional spike vibrated with a desperate hope, love and fear... that second must be an orb-free sister. He knew there were a few of those around, since he listened to the radio when he grew excessively bored.

He had little use for females of any breed, however. They existed to serve males like himself and his brother. When they served well, they could be convenient. The rest of the time, he preferred to live without them and their more intense emotions.

He wondered if it was the same orb-free sister that his brother had sent an intense love to, 900 years ago.

It still irked Knives that his brother would send so much love to any other than himself. Even if it was another orb-free plant, it still felt like the so-called "Stampede" was giving away something that rightfully belonged to him.

It didn't matter that he'd not interacted with Vash for over a thousand years. It didn't matter that he'd done his best to leave his twin believing he was dead. Knives didn't like feeling as if his brother had found someone to replace him.

He stood and began collecting a few things that would be useful on a journey. A thousand years had passed since he'd interacted with anyone other than the orb sister here. She provided him with food and water, and enough power to run the machinery that sustained her. His needs were small, so she was in no danger of running short on energy from tending to him. At least, not anytime soon.

He'd chosen the place to leave his brother carefully. It was small, and within walking distance of this forgotten crash site. No humans had ever come here - he'd never even brought Legato. Yet he had come upon occasion over the years before the earthlings arrived, especially if he wanted something that other, busier orb sisters could not provide.

After entrusting Vash to his beloved humans following their last battle, Knives had walked toward this lost retreat. He'd been mildly surprised when he arrived a few days later, without dying in the desert. He still loathed the limitations that came with black hair. He missed flexing his plant abilities. He felt as if he'd spent a thousand years existing without living.

Knives had sensed numerous times when Vash had reached out with his emotions, searching for him. He'd always remained quiet when that happened. He'd needed to hide for a few days, when his brother came to this spot looking for him. He intensely disliked being compelled to exist almost like a human, and didn't want to give his brother any opportunity to gloat.

He'd endured this quiet, solitary existence for slightly over a thousand years. Not even Vash knew where to find him, since he'd had never permitted himself to grow excited over anything in all that time.

Until today.

At least he'd not needed to deal with any human vermin. He still despised them, and would like best for their taint to be removed from the world. However, even though he disagreed with Vash, he couldn't help respecting the strength of his brother's determination to defend his ideals... and his stupid, stinking humans.

Since he no longer enjoyed the superior abilities of his kind, he'd withdrawn into retirement. Many times, he'd considered making one last energy expenditure that would end his life. Unfortunately, it was easier to talk big about such things than to do them.

When it came down to it, he didn't really want to die.

He still didn't really want Vash to die, either.

There was no possibility that he could arrive in time to help decide his brother's fate. He was limited to foot travel, and the sense of Vash's presence was almost exactly on the opposite side of the world.

He would, at least, be able to visit his grave and watch over it, if his brother died. If Vash lived, well... then it would be time to make a decision about whether or not to reveal that he also remained alive and whole.

He felt hope from the orb sister nearest to Vash's presence. That hope passed around and gradually reached all of the others. She knew something from emotions not strong enough to reach all plants on the planet, but strong enough to reach her. The orb-free sister had found Vash, and was trying to save his life.

Knives finished packing his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out into the desert.

...

...

...

...

**Author's Note: **_Hopefully, this story should be able to stand alone. However, it is also a sequel to__ "_Vash, Vindicated_"__ and__ "_Shared Memories_."__ They are a sequel to__ "_Rem Returns_" - __which follows__ "_Vash's Long Road to Home_," __which follows__ "_Vash's Quiet Life_." _

_There's also an associated "free verse" poem titled__ "_Too Late_," __and a semi-associated collection of shorter stories,__ "_Search for a Stampede_."_

_ (Just in case anyone happens to be interested in reading any more of what I imagine might follow the manga's end.) _;-)

_There are also two companion tales to this series written by the highly talented_ "JasperK": "Stasis" _and_ "With This Ring." _Please give them a read, if you haven't already read them. Thanks!_ :)


	2. Search

I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Search**

Knives stopped when he came within sight of the human town, after nearly three years of travel by foot. He grimaced, and suspected that he could feel his skin trying to crawl in a direction away from the cesspool where the human vermin gathered.

Did Vash think of them as pets, perhaps? That might make more sense than other theories he'd considered about his brother's inexplicable love for those paltry humans over the years. They could be trained to be useful, and they could, occasionally, provide amusement.

Nothing was as satisfying to him as destroying them. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. Knives sighed heavily.

The orb sisters had chosen to coexist with those maggots. They had chosen Vash's way. He didn't like it, but there was no longer anything he could do about it.

He tried to brace himself. He knew that the best way to learn what had happened was to ask one or more of those disgusting human... things. He shuddered, loathing the prospect.

It had been uncomfortable enough dealing with Conrad, Legato, Elendria, and the others all those years ago. They had served him with utmost respect, and dealt with others of their kind so that he did not need to soil himself with such interactions.

He no longer had any slaves to tend such unpleasant tasks. Perhaps he should see about acquiring a few, again.

There had been another pair of emotional spikes, about a month after he felt Vash's mortal injuries. Both spikes had been about love. Knives' mouth twisted in a wry expression.

One of those spikes had come from Vash, so he knew his brother had survived. What he didn't know was how he'd survived, nor what condition the pacifist was in now.

He didn't like not knowing. Since he'd already set out, he continued traveling.

The town in front of him is the place where the injury and at least the initial healing had to have happened. Someone there must know something, even if they were only human.

Clenching his jaw, Knives strode down the sand dune atop which he'd paused, and proceeded toward the town. The most likely place to look would be the hospital.

He would go in, and find that hospital. Then he would start questioning the vermin until he learned where to find his brother.


	3. Discovery

I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Discovery**

When Knives reached the checkpoint of Seeds village, the guards were comparatively lax about allowing him through. He walked in almost entirely unchallenged. The one security person who did ask casually waved him through after he only reached toward a pocket.

Perhaps, he thought, everyone had forgotten him. A thousand years was a non-trivial time lapse even for a plant. It encompassed many generations of humans.

He entered the village armed with a few pieces of useful information. Vash was using a different name away from this place, but most residents here knew him by his original name. He had a plant wife, and ten children that had arrived as five sets of twins. There was also a human woman who lived with them and helped with the children.

The concept of ten young plants - four of them male - fascinated Knives. Perhaps with one of those youngsters he could yet accomplish all his hopes. Their father had proven stubborn, but the children could not have been directly infected by Rem's altruistic philosophies. For that reason, those ideas Knives so despised shouldn't have as strong of a hold on the children as they did on the father.

If he'd known previously that Vash was having pure plant children - especially in such quantity - he might have come this way sooner. The idea of taking one of his nephews, whom he could raise to take the place Knives wanted Vash to fill... it had a great deal of appeal.

Knives avoided radiating any emotion that would betray his plans. He was near enough that he could sense faint echoes from the emotions of all twelve orb-free plants, plus the awareness of the orb-enclosed sisters also residing here.

If he could sense them, then it meant that they could also sense him if they thought to try.

There was no need to ask directions. He could feel where most of them were. Vash was not among the larger group, so it was probably his wife and children. He strode that direction swiftly, filled with an anticipation that he'd not enjoyed for a millennium.

It was a cold, windy afternoon. Sand grit was heavy in the wind, but not nearly to a point where it would qualify as a sandstorm. He didn't remove his hood or cloak, even though the residential area had a wall that provided a wind-break and almost made those outer garments optional.

The suns were bright, causing a glare even with all the sand carried by the wind gusts. He strode to the edge of a yard at the end of a long line of houses. A ball bounced and rolled to a stop against the toe of his boot. Children's laughter faded away as they detected the tall stranger.

Eleven blonde heads turned his direction. On a shaded porch, the blonde woman handed a blonde toddler to a dark-haired woman along with a few words. He couldn't see either woman's face clearly until the blonde stepped away from the porch. Then he could see her face well enough, but the other's remained in shadow.

The darker woman stared in his direction for a few heartbeats, before taking the two smallest children into the house. They were barely walking, so probably less than three months old.

"I don't think we've met," the blonde woman said softly, looking at him intently. She came close enough to see his face inside his hood, and then she gasped. He could feel her surprise. He saw something in her eyes that fell short of recognition but suggested either awareness or understanding.

So. Vash had told her about him, had he? This could make it interesting.

"Children, go inside the house. _Now_," she called over her shoulder, turning her face slightly without ever taking her eyes away from his own. "It's time for an afternoon snack. Your Grandmother is already inside preparing it."

She immediately returned her full attention to him. "He feared you were dead," she said quietly as the children scrambled toward the door of the house behind her. "He's only begun to give up on searching for you during the past five years. He thought he would find you before that, if you could be found at all."

Knives could feel Vash approaching. This female plant must have called for him with her thoughts.

"Clearly," he said with some satisfaction, "I am not dead." He smiled, wondering what his brother could possibly find appealing in this pale slip of a girl.

She hesitantly extended her right hand. "I am Shyla, his wife," she said.

At least Vash had chosen a plant. It would have been worse if he'd chosen a human. This suggested that his little brother had not entirely taken leave of all his senses.

He took her hand, even though she was a mere female. She was the female whom Vash had given a place at his side, and in his bed. She had given him these children.

Suddenly Knives grew angry. Who was this ignorant young upstart to take what rightfully belonged to him? He would put her in her place. He would humble and humiliate her.

He would take from her what she had given to his brother, and give to her what she had taken from Vash. He would dominate her, and compel her to yield to him no matter how much she attempted to resist. Vash should pay for turning to anyone else but himself. His little brother deserved the pain that was coming.

Her eyes widened, as she sensed his intent. She tried to pull away from him, but he only tightened his grip on her hand and smiled the more. If he timed this correctly, Vash would arrive in time to see this pale plant girl succumbing to his own embrace.

Shyla twisted her arm, and slapped him with her other hand. He blinked, but he was not displeased and he did not release his hold on her. So, the girl had some life in her. That should make it even more fun.

However, Knives had substantially underestimated her will and ability to fight. She moved like Vash, but with slightly less physical strength. He was still wrestling with her some time later, when his brother came into view. To Knives' embarrassment, he hadn't yet succeeded in knocking her down or lying on top of her before her husband arrived.

His brother swiftly slipped his own lean body between Knives and his wife, and then administered a strong uppercut to Knives' jaw. Knives lost his hold on his sister in law, and was driven back a few steps.

"Come now, brother," Knives said, while testing the condition of his bruised jaw with one hand. "I just wanted to share. Isn't that what family is for?"

He noticed a star-in-circle badge on his brother's chest. Had Vash become a lawman? Good grief.

"I don't share Shyla," Vash said. His voice and expression clearly indicated that there would be no negotiation on that subject. His emotions said the same thing.

Knives laughed. "Not today, perhaps," he said insinuatingly.

"Not ever," Vash corrected bluntly. The wind caught stray wisps of his long black hair, those that had escaped the leather tie at his nape, and played with them.

Knives even felt jealous of the wind that touched his brother.

"This isn't much of a welcome for your long-lost brother," Knives mocked. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

"To learn that you are alive, yes," Vash said softly. He retained his tensely defensive posture, standing in front of the plant girl he'd married. His tone turned dangerous, without growing any louder. "However, I am _not_ glad to see you trying to take unwelcome liberties with my wife."

"In time, she will be glad to know me better," Knives said carelessly. "My body isn't broken, like yours is."

"No," Vash and his wife said immediately, their voices blending as they spoke the word.

Knives laughed again. Vash hadn't changed at all. He still wanted to protect others, and quickly grew angry when he perceived that they were threatened. It was so easy to get him riled up. His little brother was hopeless at times.

He looked past Vash to the girl. "Come here now," he said, "and take your lesson like an adult. You'll soon learn how to satisfy him better, with me teaching you."

"She suits me perfectly as she is," Vash said, before the girl could respond. "She has no need to either learn or change anything."

Knives laughed more, enjoying the feeling of Vash's anger and even the girl's disgust. He stepped close to his brother, and lowered his voice. "Perhaps you are the one who could benefit most from a lesson in passion today?" Knives suggested. He casually fondled the other male plant.

Vash didn't flinch, nor did he give any ground. To Knives' disappointment, he didn't respond to the touch, either. There was no yielding, and neither thrill nor arousal was detectable in his brother's emotions or his body. His glare continued unchanged.

"I don't share me, either," Vash informed him through clenched teeth.

Knives glared back. "Are you sure about that?" he said, barely above a whisper as he moved still closer. This time his hand got even more personal.

Vash still stood unmoving, unflinching, and glaring at him. "I already told you," he said grimly, "I don't do that. Stop it." He knocked Knives' hand away.

Knives was in the process of probing to learn if Vash had the necessary anatomy to respond, when his brother demanded that he stop. "Starting to enjoy it?" he asked, smiling knowingly.

"No," Vash said firmly.

From the flavor of his emotions, Vash wasn't lying. Again, Knives was disappointed. He chose to use a visual inspection, under the other's steely glare, since the tactile approach had been resisted. From the way his brother's clothing fit, there was ample anatomy there. Said anatomy was simply too relaxed to suit Knives' current mood.

"Why did you come here?" Vash asked. "It seems unlikely that you came out of hiding, after so long, merely to molest either me or my wife."

"True," Knives said, casually stepping back. "I thought I might relieve you of the burden of having so many children to pay for. I could take one or two of your sons off your hands, to raise at my own expense."

Vash's eyes narrowed. "I don't share my children, either," he said in the same softly dangerous tone that he'd been using. "If that was the only reason you came, then perhaps you should leave. We have nothing further to discuss."

"In fact," Vash continued, almost conversationally, "if you hurry, you might catch the bus to the next town. You could find lodging there, tonight, for your trip back to wherever you came from."

Knives laughed yet another time. "Can you really be so eager to see me gone, after we've been so long apart?" he said. "No, I've come for a visit. I'll stay until I'm ready to leave." He turned to walk around the pair toward their house.

They moved with him, continuing to block the path to their door.

"Not very hospitable," Knives observed, after five failed attempts to walk nearer to the door of their home.

"I believe lodgings have been prepared elsewhere," Vash said calmly.

For the first time, Knives saw his brother begin to relax... just as he sensed movement behind him.

A blonde girl child dashed past him and into Vash's waiting arms. "Well done, Rem," her father said softly as he hugged her.

Rem. Knives rolled his eyes. Vash _would_ name his child Rem, of all things. He turned, and saw a large posse of villagers in security uniforms waiting.

"Go with them, Knives," Vash said over his daughter's head. "They won't touch you or attempt to harm you, as long as you cooperate and don't try to get away."

It was Knives' turn to glare. "You'll regret this," he warned.

"So will you," Vash said. Now, unlike earlier, voice sounded sad. The emotional flare that came with those words was unexpected.

Knives pondered what he'd detected in his brother's emotions, as the humans surrounded him and led him away. At least the humans didn't touch him. It was thoughtful of Vash to make that restriction.

His brother still loved him. It wasn't exactly the kind of love that Knives wanted, but it was both deep and strong. That meant, to Knives' way of thinking, that it was possible he could encourage Vash's love for him into the direction that he _did_ want it to go.

He'd need to either seduce or kill his sister in law first, though. She would distract Vash as long as she lived allowing only her husband to touch her.

The humans led Knives to a tall building. In a room inside, there was a cage with a bed, sink and a toilet. "We need to check you for weapons," one of the men said apologetically. Others stepped back, and drew their weapons. "Please strip. We will provide clothing for you, but we must first know that you cannot harm anyone."

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Knives demanded angrily.

"You are Vash's brother, Knives," the human replied.

Knives was surprised by this. Had Vash actually informed these... creatures... of his identity? He fumed, again feeling jealous. There would be consequences for that, too.

"He asked that we treat you with all possible courtesy and respect," the human continued. "Yet he also warned us that you are a dangerous criminal, and must not be trusted. So please, remove your clothing. When we have inspected you visually, we will give you replacement clothing."

Knives cursed and spat in the human's face. He was not ashamed of his body, but he disliked being told to do anything. He especially despised humans who thought they could tell him what to do.

"If you do not undress of your own will," the man warned, "we shall be compelled to do it for you."

Knives glanced at the number of weapons aimed at him, and considered the number of uniformed bodies in the room. He remembered that he could not use plant power against them, without a guarantee of dying from it. He cursed again, and began undressing.

He would make Vash pay for this indignity.


	4. Family

I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Family**

Rem managed to keep all the children corralled away from the doors or windows, by reading them some of their favorite stories. They sat around her, some on the couch and others on the floor by her feet. All listened as she read aloud, and watched as she showed them the familiar pictures.

Her namesake, little Rem, the eldest, had quietly slipped out the back door and probably run for help. She expected that action was in obedience to an instruction from one or both of her parents, since her twin sister Naomi had quietly begun helping with her siblings at the same time.

Grandmother Rem looked into every one of the children's dear faces. Naomi, the second eldest, looked worried as she sat hugging the middle twins.

Nicholas, the most active of the ten, was unusually quiet. He and his twin, Alex, had seated themselves between their siblings and the doorway. It seemed as if the dear boys meant to protect everyone else by making themselves a barrier against danger. Both looked determined, with expressions that reminded her strongly of their father.

Sheryl and Lina, the middle twins, seemed to be enjoying the story as did Brad and Livio, their younger brothers.

The two youngest were seated on either side of her. Tessla and Milly also seemed only aware of tension, but were easily distracted by the wonders of a story.

Rem tried to concentrate on the current story, needing to keep the children entertained.

Why? Her heartbeat seemed to say, over and over, as she read to them. Why had Knives come here? Why now?

As the story drew to its close, she heard the door open. She tried not to panic. Thankfully, that door only admitted Vash, Shyla, and little Rem.

Thank God.

"You're back," she said, trying to sound lighthearted and cheerful.

"Yes," Shyla said. "Did you all enjoy your snack? Is there any left for your father?"

The younger children rose and clamored around their parents and elder sibling. They welcomed them home, and asked questions, and told about the snacks and stories in a cheerful pandemonium that made Rem smile.

That became a wrestling match, as all of the children piled onto their father. Shyla quietly closed the door and came to sit by Rem. She leaned her head on Rem's shoulder in the same confiding way that she often did with Vash.

Rem put her right arm around her daughter in law, and asked softly, "Is everything all right?"

"It should be," Shyla replied.

"What happened?" Rem asked.

Shyla shuddered. "Knives was hoping to get one of our boys," she spoke so softly it was barely louder than a whisper. "Although some of his remarks and behavior suggested he'd still prefer Vash."

Rem glanced at the wrestling match, still in full swing on the floor. "For what?" she asked softly.

"Apparently," Shyla said quietly, "he still wants to rule the world with Vash at his side. If he can't have Vash, he'll settle for one of our boys."

"We'd hoped he'd changed," Rem said, "When he wouldn't kill Vash."

"I think he really always wanted to control Vash, not kill him," Shyla said.

"Where is Knives now?" Rem asked nervously.

"In the most secure holding cell in town," Shyla said

"Our security forces are good people," Rem said.

"Yes, they are," Shyla agreed. "Let's make dinner. They'll be at it for awhile yet."

Rem looked at the way that all ten children were going after their father, and had to agree. It didn't appear likely to wind down of its own accord anytime soon. Tonight, it might be as good for Vash as it was for his children.

They made dinner without incident. That was followed by the usual tussles involved with getting ten children decorously seated around the table and eating... without a food fight or any other equally messy side-effects.

After getting the dishes to the sink and wiping every young face, Vash led them in a game of "follow the leader" while Shyla washed dishes. Rem sat on the couch watching them, with one of the youngest girls on either side of her, and couldn't help giggling at some of their antics.

Vash led his troupe of children to stand on one foot and spin in a circle. He also encouraged them all to see how much of their faces they could put first on the right side of their face, then on the left.

So they would close the eye that needed to not be on that side of their face, and frown on that side, while raising the opposite eyebrow and trying to move their mouths to the selected side of their faces. The results were predictably comical and entertaining to both players and audience.

He led them to walk across the room, jumping at each step. He had them walk on hands and feet, with their hind-sides high in the air. He had them sit and scoot along, while waving their hands over their heads. And so on

After finishing the dishes, Shyla came and quietly collected her youngest from Rem's sides. Little Tessla and Milly were drooping, and small wonder since the poor dears had missed their afternoon nap. Thankfully, the two were blessed with their mother's gentle nature, and were behaving very well for being so weary.

Shortly after that, Vash called an end to the active game and asked the children to gather around. He said he had a story to tell them.

Rem got up and poured then distributed glasses of apple juice. The children received them gratefully. She made Vash's last, after supplying juice to all the children. She added half a shot of whiskey to his glass, hiding the action with careful positioning of her body as she poured. He raised an eyebrow at her with his first swallow, and then he smiled. She smiled back.

Shyla returned from putting Tessla and Milly to bed, and sat by Vash. He lifted his right arm, and she snuggled against his side. They always looked happiest when they were together like that. Rem smiled too, glad that Vash found a wife who was so good for him.

"Do you remember how we've been talking about different kinds of sickness this month?" he asked his children.

There was a chorus of several variations on "yes" in reply. He smiled.

"I knew you were all smart enough that you'd not forget so soon," he said, praising them sincerely in words that even the youngest present could understand.

"This story is about someone who grew sick in his mind and heart," Vash continued. "I don't know if he can be cured, but I keep hoping. This sick person is my brother, your uncle. His name is Knives."

Vash proceeded to tell the children a short and reasonably accurate - yet entertaining - tale that warned them to get help if they ever saw their uncle without several security people in attendance on him.

"Was he the man who came here, when mama sent us all inside?" Livio asked.

"Yes," Vash said. "And I am very proud that you all obeyed your mother, and came inside when she told you to."

"She felt scared," Nicholas said. "I'd never felt her being scared before." His bright blue eyes were wide with alarm.

"Your mother was very brave," Vash said proudly. "She was scared, yes, but she still protected all of you. I want you to remember that. She did what was right, no matter how scared she was. I hope that you will all do the same, when you grow up."

That won Shyla a round of hugs and compliments, and made her blush.

Then it was time to start getting the children cleaned up and into bed. The oldest girls helped with the middle girls, and the four boys washed together with the older ones helping the younger ones. With only slightly more than the usual distractions, harmless pranks and so forth, they were all safely tucked into their own beds.

After giving all the children a good night kiss, Rem saw Vash and Shyla in the sitting room. They appeared to be getting involved in the beginnings of intimate behavior. She started toward her bedroom, when they both reached out toward her.

"Let's go upstairs, to the sitting area in our room," Vash suggested. "I don't want the children to overhear what needs saying."

"All right," Rem said.

They went up to Vash and Shyla's room, and sat on the couch against the window. Vash sat in the middle, and extended his left arm for Rem to snuggle against that side. Shyla was already taking her customary place against his right.

He leaned back and rested his head against the window. "I'm glad that's over."

"At least for today," Shyla said softly.

"Yes," Vash agreed. "Provided he doesn't escape - at least future interactions should be on our terms, instead of his."

"We didn't tell him about you, Rem," Shyla said, peering across Vash, under his chin, to see Rem's face. "We didn't want to put you into any needless danger."

"Why..." Rem began. But when she thought about it, she understood.

"I know I can't keep you forever," Vash said softly. "But I won't lose you again to his malevolence." Something about him suggested an ache in his soul that she knew not how to soothe. "There's a two-way mirror in one wall of the room where he's incarcerated. Please, if you want to see him, don't risk yourself. Please."

Rem hugged him. "I'll be careful," she vowed. "You're so good," she added softly.

Vash shook his head, but he hugged her back. "I just love you, that's all," he said.

Shyla peeked under his chin again. Her expression spoke volumes. Vash's complete lack of arrogance was part of what made him so dear. Shyla shared that, wordlessly, and Rem appreciated the confidence. She smiled in affectionate agreement.

They talked a little more, unwinding after the stressful events of the day. Everyone in this family was safe tonight. That was the most important thing.

It was also good that they finally knew Knives' fate. He lived, doubtless a vast relief to Vash. And now his malevolent brother was locked away, where he could do no harm.

Rem watched the two plants snuggling beside her, and a stray thought blurted out of her mouth before she had time to think that keeping silent might be wiser. "I wonder if Knives' other instincts have wakened yet."

"They have," Vash said in an empty, flat tone.

Rem looked at him, puzzled. Before she could say anything further, Shyla answered.

"We could feel it when we saw him today," she said. "Part of what made him so dangerous was that he wanted someone he couldn't have."

"Who...?" Rem asked, puzzled. She looked first at Shyla, then at Vash. His face was turning red, and his jaw was tightly clenched. She suddenly understood the things Shyla had carefully _not_ said earlier.

"Oh no," she said.

Shyla put her arms around Vash in a way that was both affectionate and protective. He snuggled into her embrace and leaned his head on hers, still blushing.

"I'm sorry," Rem said, meaning it. She leaned against her adopted son, also trying to comfort him with a hug. His arm tightened around her.

"Did we ever learn what wakes those instincts?" she asked.

"The letters I received from other married plants tell widely different stories," Shyla said. "It always focuses on one person when it wakes: someone that they've known and loved in an unromantic way for at least a few years."

Rem listened quietly, fascinated.

"It always comes sometime after reaching physical maturity," Shyla continued. "Beyond that, it seems to vary so much that we can't know if it's triggered or random. If it is triggered, which seems more likely, most aren't sure what set it off."

"And what do you think?" Rem asked. The deep red was slowly fading from Vash's cheeks as his mind began to pick away at the subject under discussion. She blessed Shyla for her dispassionate, scholarly approach to the matter.

"I think the best information, unfortunately for her, comes from a plant lady who has had the misfortune of marrying very short-lived human husbands," Shyla said thoughtfully. "She's noticed a pattern that holds true at least within herself, and seems to fit everyone else's experiences, too."

"And what is this pattern?" Rem prompted.

"After she's come to love someone as a close friend for at least a few years," Shyla said, "some circumstance occurs that focuses her awareness of that person."

"How do you mean?" Rem asked, puzzled. Vash's blush continued to fade, much to her relief.

"It might be that he does something extraordinarily kind, and admiration focuses her love," Shyla explained. "It might be that he risks his life for a worthy cause, and she fears losing him that focuses her love. Or it might be that he does something extraordinary just for her, and gratitude focuses her love. In each case, shortly after that focusing occurs, she starts feeling romantic toward him."

"So what took you so long?" Rem teased, looking at Shyla. Seeing the way the girl's face changed, though, she immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean it like that!"

The poor girl looked utterly ashamed, and a tear trickled down one cheek. Rem felt lower than the dust as she watched a deep blush spread over Shyla's pale features.

"It started, a very tiny little bit, when word came that I'd been shot to death," Vash said. "It was barely enough to make her notice me and feel a tiny bit awkward, perhaps because I was so quick to inform her that I still lived. She mostly ignored that awareness, successfully, until I kissed her cheek for a little too long one day during the year before we married."

His fond voice continued without a pause. "She became more conscious of there being a difference between us after that. She couldn't ignore it entirely anymore, though she gave it a valiant effort. When I really was shot, her instincts went into such high gear that she was barely able to treat me." He was smiling as he stroked his wife's hair. "Thankfully, a thousand years of doctoring had ingrained enough good habits that she managed."

Something about his tone of voice made Rem chuckle.

"I think you and the other lady have something in the theory of a focus trigger," he said thoughtfully. "Looking back... God, I thought I'd become the pervert I'd so often been accused of being. I was so ashamed. It took me awhile to get past that and recognize the pattern."

"And that pattern was?" Rem prompted him, after he fell silent.

"I was _not_ reacting to every pretty female," he said. "It was only the slender blonde ones. And not even all of those! At first glance, something about each one reminded me of Shyla. Closer inspection tended to end the reactions, when it became clear that it wasn't anyone I knew. When I first realized it was all about Shyla - that made me feel worse."

After only a very brief pause, he continued. "I knew she hadn't quickened yet, so I tried to get myself under control. However, I never did succeed in that." He was grinning mischievously as he said the last sentence.

Shyla poked him in the ribs, which made him chuckle as he failed to fend off her hand.

Rem figured she'd blundered enough for one evening, and she remembered how entangled they'd been downstairs. "It's been... a tiring day," she said. "I think I'll turn in. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know. I'm a grandmother now!"

They all laughed. She hugged them both, and then went to the door. Glancing back, she saw them taking up with each other about as they had been before she interrupted them, back before they came upstairs to talk.

She closed and locked their door as she left the room, and smiled.


	5. Interlude

I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Interlude**

Vash smiled when he heard Rem lock their door as she left. She seemed to know what they needed, too.

Knives had attempted to mess with their marriage. They needed to know that he had failed.

In their hearts and minds, they already knew how completely he had failed. Now that they had some privacy, they craved verifying the truth of Knives' failure with their bodies also.

"Mayfly," he said softly, "please, help me get this off."

His heart warmed as he saw the appreciative expression that immediately appeared on her face, and felt its matching echoes in her emotions. He grinned widely.

Even before she'd healed his scars down to mere skin blemishes, she'd not minded that he was scarred. Or more accurately, she hadn't been repulsed. Her only concerns had been that the scars might be causing him pain, or making it easier for him to be injured in the same places again.

Knives' sneer about his broken body was off-target. Vash had known that in his head, and somewhat in his heart. Shyla's immediate expression and emotions at the thought of uncovering his broken, scarred body drove that truth far deeper into his heart. It felt very good to know that so thoroughly.

"I meant my left arm," he said, "though you're welcome to remove anything else you'd like, as long as it's detachable, while you're at it."

She looked and felt puzzled. "You want your prosthetic arm taken off?" She said. "May I ask why?"

"Tonight," he said, "I don't want anything touching you that isn't me."

She tipped her head, a question in her eyes. She left it unspoken, and didn't form it into thought communication either. She didn't need to, though.

"It's a very useful tool," he admitted. "I'm grateful to the Seeds engineers for crafting it. I think it may be slightly more dexterous than my other, and I know it's a little stronger. However, it's not really a part of me. If I touch you with it, you can feel that touch. But I can't feel you through it. Tonight, I want it to only be you and me."

She nodded, and quickly helped him out of his outer clothing and body armor. Then she was examining where the prosthetic attached to the stub of his left arm. He found himself smiling again. She was so capable, so efficient, and so gentle. And that was only a very few of the things he appreciated about her.

He sent up an offering of wordless gratitude that he hoped might qualify as a prayer. He also allowed himself to feel the full depths of his love toward her. He included his gratitude, so that she could feel it too.

He felt her responding warmth on several levels, and his smile grew wider.

"Oh, here it is," she said.

There was a soft click, and then his prosthetic detached. She cradled it in her arms, stroking it lovingly as if he could feel it. "I've grown used to it being attached to you," she said. "Deep down, I know it isn't part of you, not really. Still, it is yours and you wear it almost always."

He gently took it from her, and laid it aside. "I'm yours," he said, "if you'll have me."

"Always!" she replied with her warm, gentle smile.

He pulled her close and began kissing her in earnest.

(Stop that!) The intrusive thought from outside their home was extremely unwelcome.

Shyla flinched.

(Knives is being rude,) he thought to her. (I can block him out. Can you?)

(Yes,) came her response.

(We'll have to teach the children to guard against thoughts from him,) Vash thought sadly. (You may need to help them at first.)

(I will,) she vowed. (You needn't worry. I won't let him win. Not with me, and not with our children.)

He smiled and returned to kissing her in earnest. She responded in kind.

...

Some time later, he rolled off of her, and lay on his back.

She rolled toward him, snuggling against his right side and resting her head on his shoulder.

He stroked her hair, and kissed her, while he waited for their breathing to return to normal.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"I needed that too," she said, equally softly.

He kissed her again, enjoying the way she felt against his skin.

Knives had first interfered with their marriage a century before he met her, when he cut off Vash's left arm. That was bad enough. But what he said and did this afternoon... or was it yesterday afternoon, now? Regardless, Knives had been so far out of line it had taken all of Vash's self control to avoid beating him senseless.

That would have served no useful purpose, though.

It was also tempting to go over to the holding room and do violence when Knives dared intrude upon a private moment. However, Vash knew better than to let his temper make decisions for him. Knives could wait, whether he liked it or not.

(May I ask a personal question?) Shyla's thought was gentle, and her feelings puzzled.

He set aside his frustrations with his reprobate brother. (You may ask,) he replied gently, smiling both inside and out. **

She knew that joke, and snickered softly against his shoulder. (Why did you let him touch you like that?)

Hmm, yes. That might be difficult to put into words.

(I knew that he wanted to try that, very badly,) he thought for her. (It wasn't the first time he had that inclination so strongly. Without the right deterrent, it wouldn't be the last time the subject came up. I didn't - and don't - want him to keep trying.)

(I thought about it for a long time since the last situation where he and I met,) Vash continued. (I figured the best deterrent against future attempts would be for him to _see_ that I don't want it.)

He tasted Shyla's emotional echoes, and - to his relief - he could feel that she was keeping up with the information he was sharing with her.

(Saying that I don't want what he wants wouldn't be enough,) he added. (I had to let him try it, and experience for himself that it won't work. He needed to both see and feel that I won't respond, no matter what he tries.) He felt again the revulsion that he'd felt then, and allowed that feeling to "leak" to Shyla.

He felt her nod on the inside. (I understand,) she thought. (I don't exactly like it, but I understand.)

(In case you didn't notice,) he thought gently, (I didn't like it either.) He shuddered.

He felt her smile. (I noticed,) she thought.

He stretched, feeling better after his interaction with his wife. Suddenly, he realized the bruised places from Knives' ungentle groping weren't hurting any more.

(Are you healing my bruises?) he asked.

(No.)

There was something altogether too innocent in the feel of her emotions as she gave that monosyllabic answer. He turned his head to look at her, and saw the same excess of innocence in her pale hazel eyes. He raised an eyebrow.

(I'm _not_ healing your bruises,) she insisted. (I can't. They're already gone.)

He chuckled. (And your own?)

(They can wait,) she thought.

Again, he raised his eyebrow.

(I'll check with our orb sisters later,) she said. (Then I'll heal my bruises, too.)

He squeezed her gently, and accepted that. (I should make you put mine back until then,) he teased.

(The only way I could do that is by touching you exactly as he did,) she replied.

(Mayfly,) he thought to her, (You can touch me all you want.) He allowed himself to feel exactly how welcome that idea was to him, and nudged those feelings in her direction.

She chuckled. (Don't tempt me! If I start doing that, we'll get no sleep at all tonight.)

(I can think of worse things...) he let that idea sink into her mind for a moment before he started kissing her again.

He felt her amusement at the way he'd phrased his comment as she began responding to his kisses.

...

The next morning, he woke before she did. He closed his eyes, and enjoyed all the sensations that came with her lying as tightly against his right side as his own skin. Then he sighed softly, not yet wanting to wake her.

He felt much better now than he had yesterday evening, immediately after seeing Knives again for the first time in a millennium.

Poor Knives. His brother's thinking had habitually grown so focused on power that he didn't even know how to express the one clean emotion he still had.

Knives couldn't even love, without wanting to dominate the one that he loved.

Somehow, Vash must find a way to deal with his brother. Now that Knives was incarcerated, someone had to deal with him and Vash felt it was his own responsibility. However, that didn't mean he enjoyed the prospect.

He thought long and hard about various methods of making his brother more comfortable, without releasing him to endanger others. He knew that his brother would not learn anything from ordinary humans, since he loathed them so much.

Unfortunately, there was a shortage of plant experts to deal with the criminally insane.

His thoughts were interrupted as Shyla woke with a gasp and clung to him, trembling.

(What is it, Mayfly?) he asked, concerned. He shared his love with her, to comfort her.

He sensed a profound disgust in her, a loathing so deep that it made her feel nauseated. (I never want anyone else to touch me that way,) she thought. (If I ever need lessons, I beg you, _YOU_ give them to me.)

(You need no lessons, beloved,) his thoughts whispered gently into her mind. (And I believe I've already established that I don't share you.)

He covered her mouth with his, rolling onto her again. He comforted her with thoughts, emotions and body.

...

Later, he found himself toying with the idea of doing his morning exercises without wearing anything. However, that could be perceived as begging... and it could be very awkward if any of the children wanted into their room.

So he put on his usual work-out clothes, and noticed Shyla doing the same. Since reclaiming her figure after their fifth set of twins was born, she was again joining him in the morning exercises. He enjoyed the exercises much more when she participated, even if they never touched during the process.

They didn't touch during the exercises this morning, but they both thought about it. He enjoyed feeling the occasional wisps of desire coming from her. He made no effort to restrain his own feelings either, hoping she enjoyed that awareness of his inclinations as much as he enjoyed feeling hers.

She washed first, and then went downstairs to begin breakfast while he took his own turn washing.

Life was returning to normal in the household, and he was pleased by that.

He would face Knives again, after breakfast. He decided that Knives should only remain incarcerated here long enough to satisfy Rem... or to prepare appropriate containment for him at a different location.

Rem would need some time to see him, and finish adjusting to a full understanding of what he'd chosen to become. As soon as she no longer needed to see Knives, Vash would arrange for him to be taken elsewhere under a _very_ watchful guard.

He didn't want his brother close enough to tap into the emotions of himself or his family, nor did he want him within reach if he ever escaped.

He had hostile intent toward Shyla, and toward his sons. This was unacceptable.

Vash finished washing up, and went downstairs to breakfast with his family. The scent of Shyla's fresh doughnuts was already tantalizing his nostrils and getting his digestive juices working.

Home. It was a wonderful place to be. He smiled and walked up behind Shyla to give her another "Good Morning" hug.

...

...

...

...

** _In case anybody doesn't already know... "You may ask" when given in response to "May I ask about..." often implies "Ask all you want, but don't expect to be given any answers." _


	6. Storm

I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Storm**

Knives felt Vash approaching, and rattled the bars of his cage. He was furious.

He'd sensed it multiple times since being locked up. Vash and that girl who called herself his wife, they'd mated during the night. It wasn't fair!

He paced the small area permitted him, slamming his fists against the bars whenever he reached an end of his circuit. He'd seen a caged tiger once, and currently understood something of the beast's restless frustration.

How dare they lock him up! Didn't they understand how inferior they were?

(Vash!) he yelled in his thoughts. (Let me _out_ of here!)

(I'm sorry,) his brother's thoughts felt sincerely apologetic. (I can't do that.)

(You did this to me!) Knives hurled the thought vindictively.

(You brought it on yourself.) Vash's emotions were a strange blend of gentleness, sadness, and firmness.

At least there was no detectable pity. That would have earned Vash more trouble.

(You didn't have to mate with that stupid wench so many times last night,) Knives growled accusingly in his thoughts.

(I'm sorry you felt that,) came Vash's response as he walked into the room. He sat on a chair about two arm-lengths away from Knives' cage - near, but out of reach. (I will make arrangements for you to be moved farther away. Then you won't be aware of it, or be troubled by it, when it happens in the future.)

(You're sorry I felt it, but not sorry you did it?) Knives was shocked. (Weren't you listening last night? I can -)

"No, you can't," Vash said. His aquamarine eyes took on that steely glare again. "I let you try. You felt what happened. I did not enjoy it. I don't want it. I will not permit you to try again."

"You can still feel it, can't you?" he said. He sensed that awareness in Vash's emotions, and could also feel that it made his brother uncomfortable.

"Yes," Vash said. "Although I hope that tactile memory is of short duration. I'm sorry if this upsets you, Knives. However, the truth is that I never wanted that sort of thing... not with you. And I never will. Let go of that desire, please. It will only hurt you."

Knives slammed his fist against the bars again, and turned away from his frustrating brother.

"Do you remember when you first started wanting that?" Vash asked softly.

"Why do you care?" Knives snapped. "You said you didn't want it."

"I don't want it," Vash said softly, "and I'm truly sorry that you do."

Knives felt of Vash's emotions, and found no mockery there. The tender-hearted fool actually meant what he said. Knives flung himself onto the bench-bed in his cage, and looked away from his visitor.

"I know what it is like to have that craving unfulfilled," Vash continued gently. "I spent nearly a thousand years in that situation myself. I know how painful it can be. Pretending to be someone I'm not, though, it won't help either of us."

A thousand years... that sounded about right. Knives hadn't really thought about the first time he'd wanted to touch Vash that way. He reached back into his memories, searching.

"So why do you want to know, if you only mean to torment me further?" Knives said as he searched his own memories. The question had made him curious to find the answer. It also made him curious why his brother wanted to know.

"I don't want to torment you," Vash said. "I only want to understand."

He felt it again, Vash's deep and frustratingly non-sensual love for him. His brother wasn't mocking him when he said that he wanted to understand. Damn.

"It's been... a long time," Knives said slowly, still scanning through memories. Before their last battle, before Vash killed Legato...

"Have you killed anyone else, since Legato?" Knives asked. At least he could still inflict pain, even from here. Even without being able to touch him. There was some small satisfaction in that.

"No," Vash said quietly.

He felt Vash's internal wince, and smiled. It was still a sore spot, eh? Good. "And you almost died for that foolish practice, three and a half years ago."

"That would have happened whether I killed my attackers or not," Vash said. "They came upon me when I was asleep, and started shooting before I woke."

Knives snorted, still scanning memories. "And why were you so foolish as to place yourself in such a vulnerable position?"

"I thought I had locked away all enemies in that region," Vash said simply. "I was mistaken."

There it was. Knives blinked, surprised by what he found. He checked both before and after, and verified it. The day he'd first really wanted to mate with Vash. He felt the reactions in his body again.

"You found it."

Damn, damn, DAMN! Vash could still feel what he felt, when he was paying attention. "Yes," he said, striving to sound calmer than he felt. He didn't want Vash knowing he'd been successful in finding a sensitive spot in his emotions.

Vash waited patiently, in a silence that encompassed his body, mind and emotions.

"The day I learned about our hair turning black, and what it meant," Knives said reluctantly. His curiosity about Vash's reaction had won out over his reluctance. "I asked Elendria if your hair had begun to darken yet, and he said it had. I first wanted you then, as he finished speaking. You weren't there, so I killed Conrad instead."

He felt Vash's love again, mingled with pain. "Do you know when my hair first started going black?"

Knives was surprised by the question. "No," he said angrily. "How could I possibly know that?"

"You were there," Vash said quietly. "It was at Juneora rock, when we put the crater in the fifth moon. That's when it started. You did that to me, Knives. You caused my hair to start turning black."

"I... had no idea," Knives said, shocked. He stared at Vash, whose long hair now appeared to be entirely black. He recalled mocking him for it, the last time they fought. He remembered berating Vash for trying to fly them away from danger, because it was killing him.

For all his talk to the contrary, he didn't really want Vash dead. Or at least, he did not want it then. Well, he didn't really want it now, either, but he wasn't going to admit that. Not to Vash, anyway. It was more fun to torture him.

"July probably took nearly all I could spend without darkening hair," he said. "I never wanted that. I was content to live among ordinary humans, as one of them." Waves of regret radiated from his brother as he spoke those words.

"Now we have no choice," Knives said bitterly. "We either live among humans, or else we live away from them... but either way, we must live as they do." He stood up and began restlessly pacing the confines of his cage again.

"Yes," Vash said. "It beats the alternative." A sad, lopsided smile formed on his face.

"Since you're so fond of them, why didn't you marry one of those... things?" Knives said.

"They have such short lives," Vash replied. "I couldn't permit myself to love one of them so deeply, knowing I would lose her so soon."

Knives was shocked and disgusted. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually considered it?" he said.

"Briefly, long ago," Vash admitted. "But I didn't love her enough to make her happy. So I went away, and she found a man who did."

"You're hopeless," Knives spat.

"Perhaps," Vash said.

Knives felt his own turbulent emotions approaching a dangerous point. He was increasingly tempted to use the power that would kill him. "You're always preaching love and peace," he growled. "Why don't you practice it? Go away. Let me have some peace."

Vash nodded, rose from is seat, and walked away without another word.

Again, Knives was surprised and disappointed. He cried out, releasing some of his pain in a loud, wordless protest against the unfairness of the universe.

Then he returned to pacing, and pounding on his cage. The damned thing wouldn't yield. He could never break through the bars with his bare hands. That started to hurt, after a while. So he prowled the small circuit like a caged tiger.

He would find a way out of this box. He had to. If he didn't, he would eventually use the last of his power, and end his own life with that foolish impulsive expenditure.


	7. Calm

I do not own Vash, Rem or Knives: they belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Calm**

"Thank you, very much, for everything," Vash said gratefully.

"Thank you for trusting us with this," the warden replied with a smile and a hearty handshake.

Vash smiled. The incarceration facility where Knives would soon be moved had taken seriously the challenge of making a comfortable place to securely contain his brother. They also took seriously the possibility that this containment may need to last as long as the planet did.

When he left Knives, six months ago, he'd gone directly to the law enforcement academy. From there, he'd tended the paperwork to make certain that Seeds Village was credited with Knives' capture. Sheriff Central had stopped issuing posters, but the bounty on Knives had never been cancelled or withdrawn.

Then he'd researched various incarceration facilities, and contacted this one. He'd paused at home only long enough to pack his bag, explain where he was going - and why - and kiss everyone farewell.

Since then, he'd been here working with the town toward preparations that had only been completed late yesterday evening. By that time, it was too late in the evening for him to return home. That had to wait until today.

The room that would soon house Knives was designed to feel spacious, without being excessively large.

The windows were barred and would be too small for a man of his size (or Knives') to crawl through even if they lacked bars. There were several such windows, evenly spaced around three sides of the room and high on the walls. Knives would not lack for daylight.

Three walls, the floor, and the ceiling were made of the strongest substance known on No Man's Land: intact hull pieces from the fallen ships. The ones used to construct Knives' cell had been carefully stripped of all circuitry. Knives had a knack with electronics and computers, so he must never again be allowed any access to either of those things.

The furnishings were upholstered, but not overstuffed. The style was carefully designed to prevent hiding places for anything. For example: there was a gap between the seat and backrest on the padded bench that would serve as his couch. Nothing could be stashed there. Vash had personally tested every one of them, and all the furnishings - including the bed - were comfortable to sit or rest on.

The restroom fixtures were in a corner not easily seen from the main wall where visitors and other curious folk would go. However, there were guard stations on two other walls that each had a clear view. Those guard stations were under strict orders to never permit any civilians in or near them.

The only doorways in or out were in the transparent and barred nested walls that connected the cell to the main building. Each of those entrances, both the doorway and the slot for food or other smaller items to pass through, were set up like airlocks. Scanners would verify that no weapons were present, before the item (or person) was permitted to approach Knives.

There would be no one allowed in, except for guarded medical personnel if he should ever have any health issues. He would be sedated twice annually for check-ups, that hopefully he would never realize had occurred.

There were a radio and a television just outside the clear, barred wall of his cell. Knives would have no means to change stations or turn them on or off himself, but he could ask a guard.

There were murals on the wall, skillfully painted to look like desert landscapes. Vash appreciated this touch at least as much as any of the others. Knives had chosen this world, so it seemed only fair that he should look at it often.

The murals prevented the walls from looking bare, and also removed the need for separate pictures that might be misused to conceal things. Vash had specifically thanked them for their thoughtfulness in providing those murals.

The staff seemed well-prepared. They were fully aware that the man coming into their custody was a long-lived genius who was severely hostile to humanity. They would treat him with courtesy and respect, but never trust him nor permit him access to anything he could use to escape or to harm anyone.

Knives could choose up to two days each week to have a curtain pulled across the transparent, barred wall of his cell. This would block the public's view of his quarters. The guard rooms, however, would have the same complete view as always.

He could also close a cupboard-like door over the speaking tube that the public used to converse with him. So he could have interviews, or not, as he chose.

He was sufficiently high-profile that there would always be students and doctors and the like wanting to interview him. He might not have friends, but had he ever? At least he would never need to be alone, though he could if he wished.

It was the best balance of comfort and security that the combination of Vash and the prison guards could achieve.

It still saddened Vash that Knives' choices made this necessary. Under those circumstances, this was the best he could do for his brother. It had taken six long months to get everything ready. Vash ached to return home.

Knives would be sedated early next week, and transported here. Vash would be among the security detail that accompanied him, and made sure that he was safely and securely installed in his new quarters.

Vash finished his farewells and boarded the shuttle that would return him to Seeds village. It was a trip covering 800 iles one way, so it would take most of the day to travel the distance.

Among other things, he'd missed Shyla's doughnuts in the mornings. He looked forward to having at least a few this evening, as part of his "welcome home" celebration. He also looked forward to a more private welcome from Shyla, after everyone else had turned in for the night.

Vash smiled in anticipation as the shuttle launched, and began perusing a newspaper to help pass the time.

...

...

...

...

..._continued in_ "Loss"


End file.
